


Someone Sometime

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody needs a little understanding</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone Sometime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morphogenesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphogenesis/gifts).



> Notes: Written for Handmaid for fandom_stocking 2013  
> Disclaimer: This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works.

She turns away from the door not caring if he follows her inside. He does, though. He comes into her home and stands awkwardly in the small, shabby kitchen, twisting his fingers in front of him. He starts to speak and she cuts him off with a sharp slice of her hand. Not yet. She's not ready for whatever this is. 

Turning her back to him, she tops off her coffee, then pours a second cup for him. It's terrible coffee and she hates it but she hates the memory of the good coffee she used to buy even more. He doesn't ask for cream and sugar and that's good because she isn't offering. The cup rattles when she puts it on the table and she can't tell if it's because of her shaking hands or the wobbly table leg. What difference does it make anyway, when everything in her life is like this?

He opens his mouth again and she shakes her head. Not ready, not quite. She taps a cigarette out of the crumpled pack then tosses that on the table, too. She lights up, takes that first deep drag, and sighs when the taste mingles with the coffee on her tongue. It's a familiar taste; it tastes like poison and rage. She hates it, too. 

"Fine," she says once he sits. "What?"

So he talks and talks. Sometimes he weeps unnoticed tears. Unnoticed by him, but she's watching. He's like her, she realizes. He went along with all of it for his own reasons, he made his own mistakes, committed his own crimes. But like her he never thought it would go so far and so wrong. Like her, he never knew who Walt truly was.

It takes him one pot of coffee and almost a full pack of cigarettes before he's done. She matches him, cup for cup, smoke for smoke. When he's done, he pushes away from the table, then pauses, hovering over the chair.

"Oh, sit back down," she says with an exasperated sigh. "Are you hungry? I don't have much but I can scramble some eggs if you are."

"Thank you," he says softly. Then, "Do you have bread? I can make toast for us."

So she points him toward the breadbox and shares her tiny kitchen with him, with Jesse Pinkman, Walt's other conspirator, and they move quietly around each other, passing ingredients back and forth, and bringing breakfast to the table. 

He scoops his eggs onto his toast and eats it as an open-face sandwich. Skyler finds herself wishing she had bacon or sausage to make the breakfast complete. Finn's gone now, off at college, and Holly is still too young to share a meal with like this. She's missed it. Missed companionship. Missed someone who understands.

Jesse smiles at her over his sandwich and she smiles back. Maybe tomorrow they'll have lunch.


End file.
